


Arcadia

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst au, Blood, Character Death, M/M, Violence, angst out the ass, kid AU, vague sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 12:52:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6805336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When we have found all the mysteries and lost all the meaning, we will be alone, on an empty shore.”</p><p>― Tom Stoppard, Arcadia</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arcadia

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.

“That’s mine,” a small voice shouted and Hisoka startled enough to drop the ragged book back onto the stack of garbage as if it had bit him.

He narrowed his eyes and looked up at the boy perched on a crumbling ledge. “I don’t see your name on it,” he shot back, hands on his hips. Or well, he assumed the kid’s name wasn’t on it. It wasn’t like he got much time to check.

The dark haired boy let out a huff and jumped off the ledge, stalking up to Hisoka with little care that he stood at least a head shorter than the redhead. “That’s the lamest come back I’ve ever heard. Did your mom pick it out for you like she did those clothes?” Black eyes devoured the inches dividing them until it felt like they were the same height.

Hisoka didn’t know whether to laugh or to get angry so he settled somewhere in between. “What’s your problem? I was just looking at it,” he bit. “If I wanted a book I’d just go get one in town.”

“Then why are you messing with my book?” the boy asked, as confrontational as ever. “What are you doing around here in the slums, city-boy?”

“Not stealing, if that’s what you’re so worried about,” Hisoka sniped, crossing his arms.

The boy rolled his dark eyes. “That’s good for you since if you were I’d have to kill you,” he shot back, and Hisoka didn’t doubt him. There was a hard edge to his soft voice, something all too familiar in the folks who called the slums and heaps of Meteor City home.

It made him laugh.

“You’d have a fun time of it,” Hisoka taunted, cocking his head and popping his hip. “I’m a hard one to keep down.”

He blinked and regretted it immediately as the boy swung out his fist, clocking him solidly on the chin. Hisoka had no time to block and he toppled over, tripping on the junk littering the ground at his feet. Pain blossomed along his face and he opened his eyes just in time to seize the next rain of blows before they could connect.

Thin wrists struggled in his grip but Hisoka bared his teeth and kicked at the boy’s legs until he dropped, wrestling him in the dirt. He fought like an alley cat desperate to taste blood. “What the hell is your problem?” Hisoka grit, asking for the second time since it bore repeating. He winced as deceptively sharp nails tore at the skin of his arms though the pain was buried beneath the adrenaline flooding his veins like a shot of whiskey.

A vicious smile split the boy’s face and Hisoka felt his heart pound in his chest. “I took you down pretty easy, I’d say,” he laughed breathlessly, ramming his knee into Hisoka’s gut until his grip loosened enough to scramble away. “Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are, book-thief.”

Hisoka coughed and held his bruised stomach, unsure if he wanted his air back to laugh or to curse. The fire in the boy’s eyes burned like the midday sun and he couldn’t get enough. “My name’s Hisoka,” he grunted, pushing himself back up on his feet. “And I wasn’t stealing your damn book.”

The boy leaned down to look at him, his smile unreadable though his eyes were laughing. “Well my name’s Chrollo and I still knocked you down.” He held out a hand and grinned when Hisoka finally took it.

He could feel strength in the hand that pulled him to his feet and Hisoka felt breathless from more than just the fight.

“Pleasure to meet you, Chrollo,” he managed, sounding much more solid than he felt.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Hisoka,” he parroted back to him, a bit of blood on his cheek.

The dark red against his pale skin drew his eye like a moth to flame. Hisoka flicked his eyes back to the warm black, losing himself all over again. He swallowed the blood in his mouth. What a piece of work.

A loud ring cut through the moment and Hisoka swore, fishing his beeper out of his pocket. “Ah shit,” he muttered, reading off the summons. Another job already? He’d barely had a moment’s rest since the last one. He looked up at his new acquaintance, the desire to stay warring out with his need to leave.

“What is it? Mama calling you home for dinner already?” Chrollo teased, his arms crossed.

Hisoka rolled his eyes and pushed past him, sighing. “Duty calls I’m afraid,” he lamented, only pausing long enough to scoop up the ruined book and smack it solidly against Chrollo’s chest, forcing him to take it. “Try not to lose this again, since it’s so important to you.”

Chrollo made no move to stop him as he vaulted over the ledge, his small hands clenched into tight fists around the battered pages. “Hey Hisoka!” he shouted, just before Hisoka disappeared behind a mountain of debris. “Come back tomorrow! And bring a real book with you!”

Hisoka froze mid-step and turned back to look over his shoulder. He had never seen someone from the slums smile so widely.

He had never seen someone smile like that at him, period.

Their eyes met over the piles of refuse and for a moment, Hisoka forgot that the world could be anything but boring.

oOo

A bright smile greeted him the next day and Hisoka really wasn’t sure how to process it.

“I can’t believe you actually came back,” Chrollo admitted, kicking his legs as he shifted on the moldering ledge. “Glad to see my punch didn’t knock any sense into you.”

Hisoka rolled his eyes and found himself mirroring the sunny grin. “Apparently not, since I’m here. And,” he paused, hoisting himself up to sit next to the boy, “I even brought you a book.”

Chrollo’s eyes narrowed as he took him in. “Where is it? I don’t see it on you,” he asked, the curiosity so blatant on his young face.

“I wonder,” Hisoka teased, tapping at his lips as if in thought. “Maybe you should check beneath you.”

Dark eyes narrowed even further as if sensing a trick but he just smiled as innocently as he knew how, watching as Chrollo hopped up to check beneath him. It was its own reward to see the look of surprise on his face as he found the thin book where he had been sitting, the glossy cover winking back at him with the midday sun’s glare.

Chrollo’s mouth fell open and he gaped at Hisoka. “How did you do that?” he asked, snatching up the book to see if it had been tampered with somehow.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he laughed, patting at the spot next to him for Chrollo to settle back down. “I delivered though, I brought you a book.”

And it hadn’t come cheap either. Books weren’t common fare in Meteor City, even in the bigger shopping districts. It was a niche interest item since most of the populace couldn’t read and Hisoka was lucky to have known someone peddling them in the marketplace. He didn’t really want to think about how much lighter his wallet was, especially when this had been a whim and not much else.

But Chrollo held the book as if it were a treasure and Hisoka watched as he traced the cream colored pages with his fingertips, his eyes skimming along the page too quick to be reading.

His assumptions were proven when Chrollo looked up at him a minute later, pointing to the title, his eyes curious. “What does this say?” he asked, tapping at the letters. “You said you can read, right?”

There was a pause. “You can’t?” Hisoka asked.

Chrollo bit his lip and looked a bit embarrassed. “No, I can’t.” He stared up at Hisoka with his dark, deep eyes. “Can you teach me?” He looked so painfully young in his earnestness.

“How old are you?” he found himself asking. It was possible that Chrollo was just young, maybe too young to have gotten proper schooling, but something told him he was just another casualty of the slums.

“I’m fourteen,” Chrollo answered, brow furrowed. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” Hisoka gave, taking the book from the boy. He stared down at the title and pondered the request. How did a person teach another to read? He barely recalled his own meager schooling, buried beneath the tasks and jobs. He bit the inside of his cheek a bit and figured he might as well at least answer Chrollo’s first question.

“This says _A Little White Lie._ This right here is the character for white.” His finger tapped at the letter and Chrollo poured over the book in his lap, drinking it up.

He looked up with a smile. “Does this mean you’ll teach me?” he asked, the excitement nearly palpable.

Small hands rested on his arm and Hisoka swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

“I can try,” he returned and the resulting grin was so misplaced given the horrible surroundings.

Even after that day, Hisoka found himself coming back for more, already addicted to the blinding smiles and heady viciousness of his newfound friend.

“You’re telling me you don’t have a job?” Hisoka deadpanned, completely disbelieving. “How do you get food to eat?”

Chrollo huffed out a laugh and didn’t look up from the dirt where he was working, a stick in hand as he practiced painstakingly to recreate the letters Hisoka had drawn in the soft soil. “There aren’t jobs out here to be had, Hisoka. You make do with what you can find or steal,” he explained, chewing on his lip as he worked to get the hang of a shape.

Hisoka on some level knew what life was like out in the slums, but to have it confirmed by someone as young as Chrollo really seemed to hit it home. “Seems awfully risky. What if you can’t find anything to eat?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. Morbid curiosity though made him ask. That, and the desire to hear Chrollo tell him.

“I think you know well enough what happens.” And that was fair. “What do you do for food, city-boy?”

“I’ve got a job. I work for the mafia guys,” he gave, taking Chrollo’s hand in his own to correct his grip on the stick. “It’s pretty dangerous.”

Chrollo hummed, disinterested despite Hisoka’s best attempts to impress him. All of his focus seemed to be placed in mastering the letter set and he eagerly let Hisoka guide his hand through the motions, his dark eyes intent on memorizing the flow that Hisoka commanded with ease.

“I usually have to kill people,” he went on, curious how far he could go before he got some reaction. “Collect debts, break legs, enforce…”

Another noncommittal hum and Chrollo’s tongue peeked out in his concentration.

“It pays pretty well. I get candy all the time—”

And to his utter surprise, Chrollo looked up, a hungry expression on his previously impassive face. “Candy?” he asked, inching closer as if Hisoka could have some on him right then. “You really get candy?”

Hisoka found himself leaning back a little, his personal space completely invaded. “Yeah,” he chuckled, smiling. “Do you like candy?”

The starved look on his face was answer enough but he was gratified to get a real one. “Yes,” Chrollo answered, looking at Hisoka as if he were God himself. “I’ve only had it a couple times but. Yeah, I really like it.”

Something warm bloomed in the pit of his stomach and before he really thought about it, he was already speaking. “I guess I’ll have to bring some for you then,” he heard himself say, hardly considering how hard it was to get candy in Meteor City, especially with his income.

There was something utterly disarming about how honestly Chrollo smiled, his joy so absolute and unabashed that Hisoka found himself a bit flustered.

“You’d really do that for me?” he asked, awe and disbelief plain to see. “Hisoka…”

There was no way to handle his appreciation other than to brush it off, and that’s exactly what he did. Hisoka cleared his throat a bit and waved his hand, taking Chrollo’s stick-pen to put the attention back on the lesson.

“It’s nothing,” Hisoka managed. “Think of it as a reward for working so hard.”

Chrollo laughed a little, the excitement as bright as the sun above their heads. “Thank you, Hisoka,” he said, leaning against Hisoka’s side. The boy was a barely-there weight. So small, like a bird with hollow bones and glass wings.

The yellowed bruise on his cheek stung as he smiled, drawing out the next set of letters to be memorized. “Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered, ignoring the warm line of Chrollo’s shoulder against his own. “Let’s see how well you do with these next ones.”

oOo

Thunderheads rumbled ominously above their heads and the two boys shared a look just as the first fat raindrops began to fall. Chrollo’s face crumpled into one of consummate disappointment. They had only just begun the day’s lesson.

“It looks like it’s going to be a bad one,” the boy sighed, kicking off the ledge to land on his feet. “I should probably get going.”

For some reason, Hisoka wasn’t quite ready to let him go. He shoved the newest book, this one a children’s alphabet learner, beneath his shirt to protect it from the sprinkle quickly turning into a deluge. “We don’t have to stop,” he found himself saying, reaching out to take Chrollo by the hand. “My place is pretty close. We can just go back there and finish up.”

Chrollo chewed the inside of his cheek and looked up at the sky, the clouds overhead nearly as dark as his eyes. “But what if it gets worse?” he asked, ignoring the rain already soaking through his tattered shirt. “I don’t want to walk home in the rain.”

“Then you can just stay the night,” Hisoka offered, lacing their fingers together and tugging in the general direction of home. An unexpected eagerness fluttered in his stomach. They never got to spend more than a couple hours together.

He could tell that Chrollo was still mulling it over, but he didn’t wait. “I have food too,” Hisoka added, already walking. “We could make some soup. And I’m pretty sure I have your next reward,” he said, looking back at the boy who had definitely perked up at the mention of potential candy. “That is, if you do well in the lesson.”

Chrollo blinked and a smile broke across his face like the sun through the clouds. “I guess I can come over then. Just to eat all of your food,” he added, finally picking up his feet and following dutifully along.

Hisoka rolled his eyes with a fond smile and guided them through the city, only beginning to run in the final stretch when the downpour threatened to reach the book hidden in his shirt. They sprinted to the shabby door, hand in hand, and pushed and shoved each other until they were both inside. Water dripped from their hair and clothes but Hisoka found the book no worse for wear when he tugged it out to set on the ramshackle table.

“This is where you live?” Chrollo asked, taking in the small, rundown apartment with wide eyes. His fingers trailed along the edge of the wall, walking the length of the single room as if he had never seen anything quite like it before.

“Yeah, it’s not much but it’s something,” Hisoka answered, going to the corner where he kept a cardboard box of the clothes he had accumulated. He didn’t think even his oldest things would fit Chrollo’s small frame.

“Take those off,” he ordered anyway, gesturing to Chrollo’s soaked rags. “You can wear some of mine.”

The clothes were tossed to him and he caught them easily, his small hands running over the soft fabric. “Don’t peek,” Chrollo threw back before turning towards the wall.

Hisoka rolled his eyes but dutifully turned away, fussing with the tiny electric burner he had for cooking.

“Now that doesn’t sound like me at all,” he teased, though his expression was annoyed. He wiggled the plug in the outlet, looking for that one angle that would spark the piece of junk to life. It was finicky to say the least and he prayed it would stay hot long enough to heat up the dented cans of soup that he had hidden under the floorboards.

There was a wet smack as Chrollo’s wet clothes hit the floor in a graceless heap and Hisoka looked up, taking that as permission to turn around.

His cheeks burned though, quickly realizing that Chrollo hadn’t finished changing. The boy was still pointed towards the wall, fussing with the buttons he was no doubt unaccustomed to. Hisoka nearly dropped the can of soup, his eyes tracing up and down the slender back, resting on Chrollo’s pale shoulders. Mouth dry and heart pounding, Hisoka couldn’t tell if he wanted to touch him or break him.

The burner’s angry beeping brought him back and he quickly turned before Chrollo could catch him peeking. “I hope you like tomato,” he heard himself say, his voice somehow coming out steady by some miracle. “I don’t have anything fancier.”

Chrollo hummed and swayed over to him, settling on his haunches to hook his chin over Hisoka’s shoulder. “I don’t mind, I’ll eat pretty much anything,” he said, watching as Hisoka stirred in some water from a jug he had near the wall. “Where do you get soup? Is it hard to find?”

Hisoka forced himself to focus on the food and not the warm line Chrollo drew along his side or the way his shirt hung off his slender shoulders. “If you’ve got money, it’s not hard to find much here. So long as you know where to look that is.” He brought the soup to a quick boil, not trusting the burner to hold out long enough for a slow simmer, and nodded towards the other box sitting against the far wall. “Can you go get the bowls out of that?”

He went without issue and Hisoka hid the sigh of relief in the latest clap of thunder. The soup boiled and he called it good enough, pulling the hot cans off the burner with his hand wrapped in his damp shirt. Chrollo handed him the bowls, or what he used as bowls at least, and he poured the soup inside, giving them each a can apiece.

“It’s hot, so be careful,” he found himself saying, watching as Chrollo took the old container in hand with eager eyes and a voracious hunger on his pale face. There were no spoons or anything like that to use, and it would be awful if any of it spilled. No matter what he said, soup wasn’t that easy to come by, even if you had money and contacts.

Chrollo nodded but tore into it anyway, drinking it as if he’d never had anything quite so good in his life. His cheeks flushed delicately and Hisoka quickly began to drink his own, if only to give him something else to do besides watch. He wondered what Chrollo would do if he brought him something really good, like meat.

He wondered how many paychecks that’d cost him to do.

“Why didn’t you change?” Chrollo said suddenly, licking the soup from his lips as he took in Hisoka’s sodden form. “You can’t be very comfortable right?”

Before Hisoka could answer, or even really question for himself why he hadn’t, Chrollo was up and moving towards the clothing box to pull out a shirt and pants for him.

“Thanks,” he gave, taking them in hand. Chrollo stared at him expectantly and his eyes went wide. “Oh, I have to change right now?”

Chrollo crossed his arms and watched him intently. “Yeah, right now. You’ll get sick if you don’t.”

Hisoka raised a brow but didn’t argue with that logic. “Don’t peek,” he teased, shifting around a bit so he wasn’t quite so on display.

“I think I’m allowed to peek.”

“And why is that?”

Chrollo grinned and stared all the harder as Hisoka slipped off his shirt. “Because you peeked before,” he explained, lifting his bowl to his lips to take another mouthful.

He wasn’t sure what was more embarrassing, Chrollo watching him change or the way he licked his bowl clean the moment he ran out of soup to drink. In either case, Hisoka made sure to not let it show. He pulled on the threadbare sweater and quickly tugged on the pants. Chrollo smiled as if he knew and Hisoka grabbed his own soup, hiding his face as he quickly downed the lukewarm remains.

The lights chose that moment to go out, the thunder deafening for a moment. Chrollo jumped and Hisoka swore before feeling his way over towards his mattress to where he kept the candles and matches. “Don’t move,” he called out to Chrollo through the dark, remembering the hot burner and sharp cans still littering the floor. He fumbled with the matchbook for a moment until he finally lit one, casting the room into a gentle glow.

It only took a moment to dig through the emergency stack and he realized pretty quickly that there was no way the candles were going to last the night. He lit one anyway, placing it next to the mattress.

“I don’t think we’re gonna be able to do the lesson,” Hisoka sighed, waving Chrollo over so they could sit on the poor excuse for a bed together. “I don’t have enough candles to last us very long so it’s probably better not to waste them trying.”

Chrollo curled into his side and stared at the flickering flame as if entranced. “It’s okay, we can do it some other time.” The warm golden light gave his skin a lovely sheen, casting him almost ethereal. He glanced up and grinned, falling back onto the mattress to stretch happily, his stomach full and warm. “You really do have a nice place, Hisoka.”

“Thanks,” Hisoka said slowly, unable to really reconcile that. It was a shitty single room, with a leaky roof and shitty power and if he didn’t hide his food, he’d come home and find it stolen. He let himself fall back too, hyper aware of the scant inches between them. “I guess it’s okay. I can’t imagine being out in a storm like this without some sort of shelter.”

“I’ve been out in worse,” Chrollo sighed, folding his hands beneath his head as a pillow. “And there will be worse too. You just have to be smarter than the storm and stronger than the rain. Or you die. That’s all there is to it.”

He couldn’t imagine Chrollo ever being weak. The light shifted and Hisoka felt the atmosphere around them grow static like the storm above and it wasn’t enough to just lie there, staring at the beautiful boy he had found in the slums. He didn’t think and didn’t want to. Hisoka rolled onto his shoulder and closed the distance between them until their lips met.

Dark eyes went wide and Hisoka pressed closer, refusing to let the contact break after just a taste. Lightning danced along his nerves and ozone coated his tongue. He held out for as long as his mind could take before pulling away, his breath ragged. Chrollo just stared.

“You…you kissed me,” Chrollo finally murmured after a moment of silent surprise. His cheeks were flushed and his fingers pressed against his lips as if he could feel the warmth Hisoka’s had left behind. “Why would you kiss me?”

Hisoka bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep the blush off his own face. This curiosity would be the death of him, he just knew it. “Because I wanted to,” he whispered back, though there was no reason to be so quiet. Under the tumultuous din of the storm, not even God would hear them talk.

Chrollo bit his lip and seemed to mull it over, his dark eyes nearly pitch black in the low light of the room. A slender hand settled over Hisoka’s cheek, his thumb stroking over the sharp cheekbone. “So if I want to, I should just do it too?” he asked, staring intently at Hisoka’s mouth.

“I think you should do whatever you want,” Hisoka let out, his breath hitching as Chrollo scooted closer.

“What if I want to punch you again?” he asked, his smile sharp and unreadable.

Hisoka ignored the shiver that tingled along his spine and smiled back. “Was it that bad of a kiss?” he laughed. He hoped he only sounded half serious. He didn’t think he could take a dose of Chrollo’s brutal honesty at this close a range.

Instead of an answer he got another kiss, this one feather light and almost a tease. “I think you need to practice some more,” the small boy cajoled, easing back an inch to nuzzle their noses together. Chrollo curled into his chest, so warm and close that he ached to hold him.

Hisoka was the worst at resisting, especially when it came to Chrollo.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” Chrollo mumbled, the words half buried against his chest. “It’s nice. Being with you.”

“I like being with you too,” he replied, but he could already tell that Chrollo had fallen asleep.

 The storm raged on as Hisoka drifted off, holding a visceral reminder of just how good he had it.

oOo

“So this is where you live?” Hisoka asked, making sure to keep his tone level. The shack, if it could even be called that, rattled a little in the breeze. He couldn’t see any sign of proper insulation or even a bed.

Chrollo settled on the pile of blankets resting against the sturdiest wall and patted the spot next to him, a bright smile on his face. “It works for me,” he answered, leaning against Hisoka’s side as soon as he sat down. “Now come on, show me what you brought this time.”

Hisoka rolled his eyes with a smile and dug into the bag, yanking out the book he had saved up for all week. The leather cover was shiny and worn with use but the pages were all there, making it a rarity in itself. “Let’s see how well you’ve been studying,” he said, opening the book to the title page and setting it across their laps. “Tell me what the title is.”

His smile grew as he watched his friend’s face scrunch up in concentration, pale lips mouthing along silently as he traced the faded letters. Chrollo must have been practicing with the study sheets he had made. It only took him a few moments to work out the words.

“ _A Return to_ …” he read, his brow furrowed as he tapped at the final word. Dark eyes flicked up to meet Hisoka’s, confusion marring his soft features. “What’s this word? I don’t recognize it.”

“Sound it out and I’ll tell you what it means,” Hisoka offered, giving in to the urge to wrap his arm around Chrollo’s slender shoulders. He was so warm, which was nice in the drafty shack. He told himself to remember to bring Chrollo some of his old clothes. It must be terrible sleeping out here at night.

Chrollo almost pouted but turned back to the book, using his finger to follow along as he sounded out each letter. “Arr-cah-dyuh,” he slowly read, looking up at Hisoka for verification.

Hisoka chuckled a little and got an angry punch for it. “Ah, sorry, sorry,” he laughed, taking Chrollo’s small fist in his hand to keep him from hitting him again. “You’re close, it’s Arr-cay-dee-uh. Good job.” He pressed a kiss to Chrollo’s knuckles, grinning against his hand as it earned him a messy blush.

“That better not be my reward,” Chrollo frowned, trying to tug his hand away before it could be kissed again. He was nearly in Hisoka’s lap and he seemed to realize it. “You know the system, I don’t want anything I can’t eat.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hisoka sighed, letting go of his hand to turn the page to the first chapter. He had read this book a few days before, just to make sure he’d be able to answer any question Chrollo might have. “I spent all my money on this so I’ll bring you some candy next week.”

Chrollo pulled a face and rested his cheek against a strong shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Tell me what it means,” he mumbled, using his knee to nudge the book open across their legs. “If you read to me I might let you off the hook this time.”

“Oh, how kind you are,” Hisoka laughed, pressing his kiss to Chrollo’s head. “Arcadia is a place, but it’s also an idea. Do you know what a metaphor is?”

“No, what is it?”

He watched Chrollo run his fingers over the pages’ edges, the pale hand so delicate against the paper. “A metaphor is a figure of speech. It’s like when you say ‘the cloud was a ribbon in the sky.’ It’s not literally a ribbon, but it’s like one.”

“So it’s how you describe things with other things,” Chrollo clarified, his brow again furrowed in the way that meant he was trying his best to follow along. “So Arcadia is a place but it also explains something else? Where is it? Can we go there?”

Hisoka hummed and smiled at how excited Chrollo seemed. “That’s the thing though. Arcadia doesn’t exist anymore. It’s a way of talking about losing something dear to you, something as close to perfect as you can get.” He tapped the book and went on. “It’s like in the Bible, when Adam and Eve lost Eden.”

A wave of understanding passed over Chrollo and he looked to the book, his excitement only mounting. “That’s amazing,” he breathed, his fingers rolling across the printed words as if it would help him understand their meaning.

“Is it now?” Hisoka asked, his brow quirked as he watched the fingertips dance. “I’d think it’s more depressing than anything.”

Chrollo nodded and looked up, locking their gazes. “But it’s amazing, Hisoka, because the title says ‘return,’” he grinned, looking as if he had just stolen an entire bag of candy. “You say it’s gone, but they went back. They found it again. Maybe we can too.”

For the life of him, Hisoka didn’t have the heart to tell Chrollo that books were just stories, and stories didn’t always have happy endings. He cleared his throat and mirrored the smile, suddenly thankful that Chrollo couldn’t read the book for himself. Maybe he wouldn’t notice if Hisoka made up a new ending.

“Yeah,” he lied, pulling Chrollo closer against his side. “Maybe we can too.”

oOo

Hisoka didn’t know whether or not to be worried about Chrollo.

Logic told him that Chrollo could take care of himself. He had for who knows how long, and the fact that Chrollo was still alive and kicking in itself told him that Chrollo was anything but a pushover. Sometimes he could still feel the phantom sting of his small fist against his cheek, could taste the blood as it filled his mouth and revel in the excitement that tingled somewhere in his stomach.

But as the days went by and Hisoka began to see more and more bruises appearing on Chrollo’s pale skin, he really couldn’t quell the concern.

“What happened?” he asked as Chrollo settled on the ledge where they always met, another angry bruise marring his cheek and his nose crusted with dried blood. He knew better than to prod and fuss, but he still dug in his pocket for the handkerchief he had taken to carrying for situations like this.

Chrollo rolled his eyes but let him dab at the blood, barely wincing even though it was already beginning to swell. “It’s nothing,” he brushed off, leaning into Hisoka’s touch with a gentle smile. “I brought you a surprise though. It’s your favorite.”

He held out a small candy and Hisoka’s eyes went wide. It was Bungee Gum, and it was his favorite.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it and putting it in his pocket for later. “But you don’t need to bring me things. You should take care of yourself better if anything.”

For his efforts he got a snort of derision and Chrollo nudging him until he left his face alone. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. So, what did you bring me to read today?”

Hisoka let it go but in hindsight he should have known better.

He had barely made it out of the city limits before he caught sight of the fight breaking out in the no-man’s land between the city and the slums. It wasn’t much of a surprise, especially given the nature of the place, but Hisoka felt a grin still spread across his face.

What a perfect opportunity to have some fun.

Voices rose up before he got close enough to join in, the harsh grunts and shouts of pain and anger all too clear. Hisoka drank it in like the ambrosia it was. With a crack of his neck and a laugh in his throat, he sprinted closer, eager to dive in before the blood and rage began to cool.

His heart stuttered in his chest as he made out the familiar figure in the middle of the fray, Chrollo tearing and clawing at the group of thugs with all the ferocity of a cornered animal. He was covered in blood, his clothing torn and disheveled. Hisoka didn’t even think. He didn’t need to.

With a running start he took out the nearest person, a woman built like a beast with Chrollo’s blood on her scarred knuckles. She went down hard and he snapped her arm, dislocating it for good measure. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught Chrollo rallying, his razor sharp smile as cutting as the knife he held in his hand.

Even though he seemed to be holding his own, Hisoka knew how badly he was hurt. He could read it in every swipe Chrollo made, in every shaky breath he took. Hisoka crushed a man’s throat and felt Chrollo’s back meet his own, the line of his spine a hot reminder of what was at stake here.

He had just managed to snap the neck of another brute when he heard the sound of Chrollo going down hard, choking on his own blood from the knee slammed into the solar plexus. The sound filled his ears, warping and rising into a deafening wave.

Hisoka saw red.

It was a testament to his own anger that he didn’t even enjoy the carnage that spilled from his hands like the blood raining down around them. Time and space blurred. He tasted iron on his tongue and heard Chrollo’s cry like a record set on repeat.

When he came back he was on his knees. Chrollo was beside him, leaning against him weakly with his hand in his hair. Blood stuck to his locks and snarled into a tangled mess at every pass but Hisoka didn’t care. The pain felt natural coming from Chrollo’s hand. He took a ragged breath and grabbed for Chrollo as he began to list to the side, the damage taken more than his small frame could handle.

Ignoring his protests, Hisoka took him in his arms and half carried him to the crumbling ledge, somewhere in the back of his mind recalling this was where he had first met Chrollo, all that time ago. Blood stained pale skin and glistened wetly in the burning afternoon sky. Dark eyes stared at him, so cloyingly earnest that Hisoka could hardly bear it.

“Why did you do that?” he croaked, his throat as dry as sand as he tore his shirt to wipe clean Chrollo’s battered face. “Chrollo, why would you do that? Why didn’t you run away?”

The smaller boy winced as he passed the rough cloth over his open cuts, shrugging. “They tried to steal the gift I got you,” he grunted, shoving away Hisoka’s hand to pull out a thin rectangular box.

Hisoka nearly shook as the present was held out to him. It was a deck of cards, the box tattered and dirty and speckled with some of Chrollo’s blood. “Chrollo…” he began, unsure of where to start. Hot, molten anger roiled in his stomach. Was this how Chrollo always got hurt? Images of every previous injury flooded his mind, coalescing into the broken, bloody picture Chrollo presented now.

He would kill them if he hadn’t already. They were all as good as dead.

Dark eyes went wide and Chrollo’s hands took Hisoka’s, lacing their bloody fingers together. “Don’t worry, I already counted to make sure it’s a full deck,” he rushed, as if thinking Hisoka’s expression was one of concern for the gift. His split lips quirked into a bright grin. “You can’t be a proper magician without some snazzy card tricks.”

“They would have killed you, Chrollo,” he shot back, trying to understand. A deck of cards. All of this for a deck of cards. A piece of gum. Some worthless gifts for him of all people.

Chrollo’s head cocked in confusion, his youth so painfully present in the movement. “I did it for you,” he stated, as if it were the most obvious thing, like gospel truth.

There was nothing to say to that. Hisoka stared at him and watched the blood trickle down his cheek, the cut above his eye barely an inch from blinding him. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted a return of iron and he forced himself to ask.

“Why?”

A beatific, albeit bloody smile spread across Chrollo’s face and he folded himself into Hisoka’s lax arms. “Because I’d do anything for you, Hisoka,” he whispered, leaning up for a kiss. Their lips pressed together softly, chastely, and Chrollo’s cheeks flushed pink, a gentle contrast to the violent red.

He saw the words forming on Chrollo’s lips but no matter how fervently Hisoka prayed, he couldn’t stop them from sounding. Hisoka clenched shut his eyes and forced Chrollo’s face to his shoulder, holding him as tightly as he could.

Chrollo’s lips tickled his ear, but his words burned. “Because I love you,” he said, his voice a promise.

Hisoka only heard a death sentence.

oOo

Years passed and Hisoka still could sometimes hear the declaration when he closed his eyes.

It still wasn’t enough to make him go back.

Hisoka sighed and leaned back against the wall, watching the sun slowly set against the horizon. Every time he saw the stars, he thought of Chrollo. Bright, unfathomable eyes staring up into the endless sky; they use to count them together, before Hisoka ran.

“I love you,” Chrollo had said.

 _I’d die for you,_ Hisoka had heard. _I’ll live and die only for you._

The stars winked at him through the glass and it was only because he was so high up that they even managed to peek through the blinding light of the city below. Cold glass kissed his temple as he rested his head against the window. Ten years. Ten years had passed and he still could feel the warmth of Chrollo’s lips against his own.

He sighed. He had thought leaving would save them both. He wondered if Chrollo was even still alive.

At the top of the world in Heaven’s Arena and yet here he was, thinking about the paradise he found in hell. The grass wasn’t always greener on the other side, but it sure did look sweeter.

A loud knock, insistent and heavy, cut through his thoughts and Hisoka lifted himself from the floor, fixing his smile back into place like a well-worn mask. She was as late as ever.

He opened the door after taking one last breath and fed her his most charming smile, knowing already she’d answer it with a glare. “Good evening, Machi. Would you care to come in?” he greeted, the perfect host. “You must be tired after such a long trip.”

She rolled her eyes. “The boss wants to meet you,” she replied, turning on her heel and making off down the hall without even looking to see if he was following. “It’s a four hour run so keep up.”

Hisoka chuckled under his breath and locked the door behind him, jogging to make up the distance between them. “I’ll do my best,” he promised. “I’m so excited to meet the boss.”

He was met with a silence that didn’t break through the entirety of the trip. It was almost disappointing. Machi was so much fun to play with, but when she refused to give anything back it just got boring. The sky opened up above them as they left the city far behind and Hisoka kept his eyes on the ground. He didn’t need his thoughts to fill the quiet, not with the turn they were likely to take.

“The boss is this way,” Machi grunted after hours of stony silence, pointing to the far end of the abandoned chapel before them. “Keep your hands to yourself or I’ll kill you.”

Hisoka smiled as winsomely as he could and held up his hands. “I’m hurt, Machi. I’m always on my best behavior,” he defended, brushing off her glare as he followed her towards the dark figure he had heard so very much about. Strong, enigmatic, dangerous; he felt his mouth begin to water.

He absolutely had to be the one to kill him.

The other members of the troupe glared at him as he passed by, all with auras strong enough to send a shiver down his spine. He tried to recall their names, though he hadn’t been introduced to most of them. He picked out Feitan immediately, his bloodlust alive and well at the sight of Hisoka alone.

He couldn’t resist the urge to wave at him, smiling all the wider when the small thief seethed. A tall blond man placed his hand on his small shoulder, holding him in place and that in itself was all too gratifying. Off to the side, a young woman stared at him curiously, her brow furrowed in confusion.

What a collection in his toy box, he thought. He smiled at each in turn though his attention was solely on the man in the back, his face buried in an ancient looking book.

Dark eyes flicked up from the yellowed page to meet his and Hisoka suddenly couldn’t breathe.

A familiar face stared back at him, smiling gently. Though a decade had past, Hisoka knew he would recognize Chrollo anywhere. In any form. Gone were the soft lines and wild hair. A tattoo kissed his forehead. Hisoka’s heart pounded and Chrollo only smiled.

“You must be the new number four, Hisoka,” Chrollo greeted, closing his book and setting it beside him. His hands, still so delicate and pale, folded in his lap as he took him in. “I heard you killed Omokage. You must be pretty strong. Welcome to the Spiders.”

Hisoka couldn’t find his voice. Something burned in his throat, the pain from before quickly rising to the forefront of his attention. He didn’t know if it was better this way.

Chrollo was alive.

Chrollo was his goal.

He bared his teeth until it felt like a smile and said some platitude, something that sounded enough like the normal him to hide from Machi’s heavy stare. He watched Chrollo say something, his lips curved with an unreadable smile as he told them all at large about the latest job. Hisoka’s mind was racing, a blinding white noise that refused traction.

Did he remember him? Was it really Chrollo? Every moment that went by with no flicker of recognition coaxed the din louder. Hisoka slowly fell back into the line of listening ears until he was as removed as he could be.

“Everybody get some rest,” Chrollo finished up, reaching again for his book. “We move out at first light.”

There was a smattering of agreements and a quiet flurry of movement as everyone went to their corners and such to tuck in for the night. Hisoka glanced at Chrollo and saw him chatting with Feitan, laughing quietly at something the small thief had said. He turned away and went for the window sill, making himself as comfortable as he could.

He closed his eyes and feigned sleep.

A few hours passed by and he registered the troupe falling asleep, one by one by one. The silence was only broken by the soft flutter of pages turning, the quiet sounds of somnolent breathing. Chrollo was still reading and the thought warmed him despite the discontent raging in his stomach. It must’ve been hard, carrying on with his lessons alone.

He barely registered the book being set down or the ghostlike footfalls of Chrollo moving from his perch. Unease curled in his stomach and he opened his eyes. There was no point in pretending. Chrollo always saw right through him.

Chrollo fell to his knees as soon as he made it to the window sill and Hisoka didn’t know what to say. Something burned in dark eyes and for the life of him, he couldn’t tell if it were recognition or anger.

“ _Hisoka_ ,” Chrollo finally said, his face so open and happy that it took away Hisoka’s breath. His hands settled on the sill as if desperate to touch him but holding back. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

Hisoka swallowed the lump in his throat and didn’t try to resist the urge to reach for him. “I didn’t think you recognized me,” he said, his voice a strangled whisper as he carded his fingers through soft black hair. His mouth curled into a wry grin. “You’re one hell of an actor.”

“I didn’t want them to know,” Chrollo breathed, his mouth trembling as he slowly lost the battle to stay composed. His voice cracked. “Hisoka, Hisoka I can’t believe you’re here.” Dark eyes grew damp and Chrollo scrambled against the crumbling stone ledge to throw himself into Hisoka’s chest, for all the world looking like a small kid again.

Hisoka held him and buried his face in his hair. Chrollo wasn’t tiny anymore. Hard muscle and black leather felt so foreign in his hands but that bright, painful smile was beyond change.

“I missed you so much,” Chrollo stammered, crying messily into his neck. He wrapped himself around Hisoka, straddling his waist as if he feared him disappearing again. Ten years had seen him grow but he’d never be too big to fit in Hisoka’s arms.

And there was little else he could do but hold him, stroking down his back and rocking him like a scared child needing reassurance. “I know, I know,” he found himself saying, nothing better coming to mind. Apologies only went so far and there was too much distance between them for a simple sorry to ever bridge.

Chrollo turned his tear-stained face to look at him, his smile so wide it had to hurt. “You look so different,” he observed, laughing as he dragged his hands through red hair until the gel was disrupted enough to fall around his face, loose like he wore it as a child. “What’s this stuff on your face? Are you really trying to go for the magician look?”

Hisoka laughed despite himself and leaned into the hand cradling his cheek. “I could ask the same of you. I never pegged you for the religious type. Is the cross tattoo really necessary?” he whispered back, his fingers dancing along the St. Peter’s cross emblazoned along Chrollo’s spine.

“You don’t like it?” he asked, and Hisoka’s eyes went wide as he dipped close enough to kiss. Soft lips teased his own, barely a hair’s breadth between them. “I think it looks pretty nice.”

Hisoka held his breath. This was so similar to how they were as kids but simultaneously so different. The tension between them was almost painful.

The kiss was sweet, chaste, morphing into something deeper the moment Hisoka let down his guard enough to kiss back. He could feel Chrollo’s smile, taste his happiness. It was heady and overwhelming and too much to handle. He broke them apart and pulled away, holding Chrollo in place when he tried to follow.

“What’s wrong?” Chrollo asked, his eyes concerned and confused. “Hisoka, I want you. We’re together again,” he repeated, voice still tinged with disbelief at the reality in front of him. “I lov—”

Hisoka covered his mouth with his hand. “Please, Chrollo,” he grimaced, “please don’t.”

Chrollo’s hand came up to cover his, pulling it away from his mouth. He stared at him and Hisoka could see the thoughts playing out behind his eyes, the dots connecting. It was when he face crumpled in pained understanding that Hisoka looked away.

“Why?” came the question and Hisoka even ten years later still didn’t have an answer. Chrollo grabbed the back of his neck and forced him back forward, anger cutting through his shaky composure.  “You left me before when I said it. Just….” He shook and tried to breathe. “Just. Hisoka. Please. Tell me why I can’t.”

With his face held, he couldn’t avoid the imploring stare. Chrollo was so beautiful. He’d always been beautiful. He licked his lips and tried to ignore how they tasted like him, trying to find his voice.

“Because,” he finally said, unable to go on.

“Is this about what Machi told me?” Chrollo demanded, pressing closer, his voice going harsh in the quiet night. “Hisoka, I can love you when you want to kill me. I don’t care,” Chrollo insisted, clenching his fists in Hisoka’s shirt.

He didn’t even have the words to tell Chrollo how much he didn’t want that.

“You’re going to burn yourself out at this rate,” Hisoka sighed, resting his forehead on Chrollo’s shoulder. “If you give me all of you, what’s going to be left at the end?”

A small hand stroked through his hair. “You’re such an idiot,” Chrollo hissed, yanking a little. “I should hit you in the face. I don’t care what’s left of me so long as I’m with you.”

Hisoka closed his eyes and held him tighter, regretting everything. He should have run further. He should have done more. “I want to kill you,” he admitted to the leather and fur of the coat. “I want you so much.”

His head was tilted up again and Chrollo kissed him silent.

“Then have me,” Chrollo said against his lips, “and let me enjoy this while it lasts.”

oOo

It didn’t last long enough.

Hisoka bit back the flinch every time Chrollo’s eyes met his during meetings, jobs, when they lay together in secret at night, far away from the rest as they made up for the time lost between them.

Chrollo gasped against his skin, burying his moans in a heated kiss so the others wouldn’t hear. Hisoka dug his nails in to his hips, chasing the heat tearing through him as if it would bring them closer, mold and melt them until they were undistinguishable from one another. He could feel the angry glare of someone watching but he didn’t care. They all hated him anyway, never understanding why Chrollo allowed him to do what he did when he was anything but sincere to them.

What was one more sin to the growing stack?

“Please, Hisoka,” Chrollo whispered, urging him faster, his arms wrapping around him as if afraid he would disappear again. “Hisoka, please, I lo—”

Hisoka muffled it with a kiss, using his hand to bring Chrollo to his end if only to stop the words from leaving his mouth. He felt the eyes turn away, the voyeur going back to their corner to fume. Their anger rankled and Hisoka came. If only they knew how much Chrollo gave.

Jobs came and went, Chrollo throwing himself through with no thoughts of self-preservation. A bullet for Phinks, a knife cut for Franklin; the scars tore across his skin like shrapnel and Hisoka could barely stomach the thought. Power tingled in his every touch, the ever present reminder that Chrollo wasn’t built to last for long. Every injury sustained for the sake of someone else pounded the notion home like the final nail hammered into a coffin lid.

His fingers slid in slick blood, the warm wetness painting pale skin like a brush along canvas. “You’re going to burn out at this rate,” Hisoka would say, winding bandages over the gashes. “The brightest stars burn the fastest.” He tasted iron as he kissed the wound, wondering how it would taste when it was from his own hand, because he knew that there would come to be one from his own.

It was only a matter of time.

Chrollo would only laugh, hiding the pain so well from years of sacrifice and acceptance. His hand stroked through blood colored hair as if it were Hisoka who needed the comfort.

“It’s okay if I burn,” Chrollo whispered, seeking a kiss for himself, for his own sake, the one selfish thing he had ever allowed for himself. “So make a wish while you still can.”

\------

Sitting on the beach of an unfamiliar land, Chrollo’s broken body in his arms, Hisoka knew he had used up the last of his time to wish.

Red flecked pale lips like a constellation all their own.

“You always look so sad,” Chrollo coughed, the blood foaming in the corners of his mouth. “You never smile when you look at me. Not anymore.”

Hisoka pulled his friend higher onto his lap, pointlessly trying to stem the flow of blood and gore with his hands. He felt like such a child, powerless and weak to the whims of the world around him. Shattered chains littered the area, just another reminder of how Hisoka had failed at everything, lost everything.

He tried to force his mouth into a smile but the mask lay as broken as Chrollo.

A pale hand reached for his face and Hisoka helped it find its target, holding it to his cheek. “I knew this would happen, is all,” he whispered, his throat choked with a regret he couldn’t swallow.

Chrollo rolled his dark eyes, the blood flowing faster when he coughed out a laugh. “You always did know so much. More than I ever did,” he managed, though his voice was weakening by the second. He looked over Hisoka’s shoulder, off into the distance. “Where did he go, do you think?”

The last thing Hisoka cared about what where Kurapika had staggered off to. He’d already done this. He’d already played his part, leaving Hisoka to close the curtain on a story that had been written long before they knew the end.

“Probably went after his friends,” Hisoka still answered, because he wasn’t going to deny Chrollo anything, even if it were only answers. “Chrollo, I lo—”

The hand on his cheek moved to cover his mouth, Chrollo smiling. “I thought you couldn’t bear to hear it,” he said, his hand falling as he lost the strength to support it without Hisoka there to keep it in place. “What if I can’t bear to hear it either?”

Hisoka barked out a laugh that sounded like a sob. “That’s so unfair. If you can force me to hear it, I can force you.”

“Nothing about this is fair, Hisoka.”

The truth was deafening and Hisoka pressed his forehead to Chrollo’s, tasting blood as he kissed him.

Chrollo’s eyes were unfocused when he pulled back, staring at the unknown constellations in the unknown sky. They were at the world’s edge but the stars were as bright as ever.

“Do you think we found it, Hisoka?” he asked, his voice barely there.

Hisoka pulled him closer, holding him like he use to all those years ago. “Found what?” he asked, giving in to the urge to cry.

“Our Arcadia?” his lips mouthed, turning blinding towards Hisoka like a ship guided home. “Did we….did we….”

Confusion smothered him like a blanket and he fought to remember, his eyes widening when the memory of them sitting together came to him, the phantom warmth of Chrollo against his thigh with the book settled over their laps. He held tight to that warmth, tighter when Chrollo began to grow cold.

“Yeah,” Hisoka choked. “I think we did.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell him that not all stories had happy endings.


End file.
